Brother Mine
by donutsweeper
Summary: Two Barkley brothers try not to worry about a third.


**Brother Mine**

* * *

Nick had been staring out the window, glaring the falling snow into submission for close to half an hour before Jarrod had finally had enough, poured a brandy and brought it over to his brother, ready to take the bull by the horns. "Regretting those earlier harsh words of yours, Brother Nick?"

"Don't you start, Pappy," Nick shot back, grabbing the glass and downing the entire thing in one gulp. "Not now. Maybe not ever."

Jarrod opened his mouth to speak, but shut it almost instantly, deciding instead to wait for Nick to calm down, or at least collect himself, before saying anything else.

"I should have gone after him," Nick huffed. "If I'd followed him into the barn, maybe I could have stopped him from taking off."

"He probably still would have ridden away," Jarrod said, his tone soft.

"But the storm was coming. I knew it, he knew it. Maybe I could have calmed him down and talking him out of going anywhere until the weather passed."

"Now, Nick, don't be too hard on yourself. Besides, I don't think anyone has ever mistaken you for a calming presence. And anyway, as angry as the two of you were with each other, if you'd confronted him in the barn the two of you would probably have come to blows."

"Probably," Nick admitted, "I was so mad. I just wanted to." Looking down at his hand, clenched tightly in a fist, Nick punched himself in the leg. "I could see myself going after him and hitting him. I think I _wanted_ to hit him."

"I've no doubt of that. You are a Barkley after all, through and through."

"Father's son, I know." Nick nodded. " And so is he."

"Hard to believe we ever even questioned it, isn't it?"

"I didn't want to believe it back then. That he was who he said he was, that Father could have done what he was suggesting he did." Nick stared down into his empty glass and swallowed heavily. "But that was then. Now everything is different. He's my brother, same as you and Eugene. Jarrod, I don't know what I'll do if he... What if..."

Jarrod clapped Nick on the shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Howard is still up there working on him, he hasn't given up yet and neither should you."

"Yeah, well believe it or not, the Doc's not a miracle worker."

"He's also not a liar. He said he got here in time. And besides, Mother's up there assisting him. Do you really think she won't fight tooth and nail to keep Heath where he belongs? Here, with us?" Jarrod pried the glass out of Nick's hand. "Nick," he said gently. "This isn't your fault."

"Pappy, so help me, if you don't-"

"Nick! Look at me," Jarrod grabbed Nick's chin firmly, forcing Nick to look him in the eye. "This wasn't your fault."

Nick sighed, deflating ever so slightly. "I know, Pappy. I know. I just wish... Maybe if I'd gone with him, offered to help instead of yelling and telling him how stupid he was being."

"He would have fainted from shock. Or I know I would have anyway."

"Oh, har-de-har-har. Very funny."

"I thought so."

"I was kidding," Nick shot back, but Jarrod just grinned in response. "I need another drink."

"You need to eat."

"Jarrod," Nick warned.

"You won't do Heath any good if you make yourself sick. And what about Mother? Don't you think she has enough to worry about without you passing out from hunger?"

"Oh, don't go bringing Mother into this."

"Then don't argue with me." Jarrod crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his brother.

Nick sighed, acquiescing. "Fine. I don't even know why I try to argue with you." He threw up his hands in disgust and stormed out of the room, heading toward the kitchen.

Jarrod was following right behind him when they both stopped short as soon as Silas appeared, carrying a basin filled with hot water.

"Silas?" Nick asked. "What's going on? How's he doing?"

"I'm sure I can't say for certain, Mister Nick. Misses Barkley sent me for more water so I'm bringing it to her." He rushed past Nick and Jarrod, but paused at the foot of the stairs. "But don't you worry none now. Mister Heath came round for a little bit just before I left. Seemed to know where he was and everything." Silas nodded. "The doctor seemed right pleased at that."

Jarrod smiled. "Thank you, Silas. You better get that water up to Mother now."

"I'll do that, Mister Jarrod," Silas said before hurrying up the stairs to Heath's room.

"See that, Nick? I told you, Heath is going to be just fine."

"There's still the frostbite." Nick grimaced, staring at the front door, the events of earlier that evening running over and over again in his mind. "He was so cold when he rode back. And when he dropped from his horse like that. He was so pale. Practically the same color as the snow, except for all that blood..."

"Head wounds bleed a lot, you know that, you've had enough of them yourself."

"I can't lose him, Jarrod. I can't."

"You won't," Jarrod assured him. "We won't. Besides, you really think a little thing like a fall from a horse is going to bother him for long?"

"It's more than just the fall. There's also the fact he hit his head and got knocked out and lay in the snow for who knows how long before he managed to drag his sorry ass up and back onto his horse."

"You said you were going to eat, remember?" Jarrod turned Nick around and pushed him towards the kitchen. "Heath is strong. He'll pull through this."

"Of course he will. He's a Barkley."

"That he is," Jarrod agreed. "Now," he clapped his hands together, "What do you say we see what sort of tasty treats Silas has been hiding from us in the pantry?"


End file.
